


Proposal

by dormiensa



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), Sherlock (TV), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Bondlock, Gen, Humour, Post-Reichenbach, Post-Skyfall, Q is a Holmes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-09
Updated: 2013-01-09
Packaged: 2017-11-24 05:52:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/631150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dormiensa/pseuds/dormiensa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft invites Molly to tea.  And asks for a huge favour.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Proposal

_Dear Ms. Hooper,_

_I would be delighted if you would join me for tea this Thursday at_ _three o’clock_ _, if_

_convenient.  I shall arrange for a_ _car to come for you at half two._

_Please send your response to my assistant, whose information is on the enclosed card._

_Regards,_

_Mycroft Holmes_

 

 

Molly stared at the note.  Why on earth would the eldest Holmes brother want to have tea with her?  It couldn’t be regarding Sherlock, who was just now examining a new body that had been delivered this morning.  And her texts from Wes (she still couldn’t get used to calling him Quesfort) assured her that he was busy testing a new type of protective material to ensure any bombs set off inside any important government buildings would be better contained so that less structural damage (i.e., collapse) would result. 

 

Nevertheless, she knew that this was but a polite notification of the inevitable.  John’s stories had given her sufficient hints that a summons from Mr. Mycroft Holmes could not be ignored.  She was rather surprised, actually, to be receiving such consideration.  And having once briefly met Mycroft Holmes’ assistant, Molly knew that a text reply would be the most efficient.  And indeed, she received an almost instant confirmation of the meeting.

 

***

 

Molly stepped out of the car and followed the brunette assistant inside an unassuming building of white stucco.  The small sign declared it the Diogenes Club.  The interior was a surprise to her, a complete throwback to another era—another century, in fact—of the old gentlemen’s clubs she saw in those historical films on the telly.  Finding the silence unnerving—nothing like the calm, clean, sparse brightness of her examination rooms—she hurried after Mycroft Holmes’ assistant.

 

 They finally entered a comfortable sitting room with tall windows overlooking a small garden.  And there, in a comfortable armchair…

 

“Ah, Ms. Hooper, how kind of you to come!  Please, sit.  Tea should be here shortly.”

 

Indeed, Molly had barely made herself comfortable in the armchair opposite when a tray was brought in.  Mycroft fussed over hosting duties, asking most politely how she preferred her tea, and finally handed her the beverage in a cup of the most delicate bone china she had ever seen.  She sipped and nibbled at the sandwiches nervously.  At this moment, she felt that she would rather be under Sherlock’s harsh, head-to-foot scrutiny than exchanging pleasantries with a man who, to all appearances, was a relaxed and congenial civil servant in Her Majesty’s government.

 

“Ms. Hooper—may I call you Molly?—I do appreciate that your time is incredibly valuable, so I will not keep you any longer than necessary.  I hope, now that my brother has once again returned to the realms of the actively living, that your life has returned to its customary routines.  And may I extend my deepest thanks for all that you’ve done to assist Sherlock during his disappearance?  Having seen how resourceful you have been in not only providing him with the means of eluding Moriarty’s vast network of spies but also managing to keeping me unaware of his plans until he finally chose to inform me of them, I have developed a very high respect for your capabilities.  Which leads us to the purpose of this visit: I have a rather unique proposition that I hope you will accept.  You are certainly the most suitable candidate, but it _is_ a very personal matter, so you must, of course, give it due consideration.

 

“My family has had a tradition of serving the nation that extends back several generations.  In fact, we can trace our ancestry to William Holmes, who served at the court of George II.  It has always been a familial stricture that at least half the members of each succeeding generation provide some service to the crown or parliament in whatever manner most suited to the needs of the time.  And so the tradition has been followed quite faithfully in our small unit of the family: I have a post as a minor governmental advisor and Quesfort is providing his expertise to MI-6.  Even Sherlock has been contributing to the cause for the greater good in his own way, unconventional as it may be. 

 

“And given the nature of our chosen careers, none of us have settled down to raise a family.  That, of course, is another stricture that must be upheld as part of our familial obligations: to ensure that there will always be a new generation of Holmeses to continue serving the nation. 

 

“I was wondering, Molly, if you would be willing to assist us in this matter.  The process would be as unintrusive as possible, of course: _in vitro_ fertilization into a surrogate.  And I hope you will not be offended if I assure you that you will be generously compensated for this great service you will be doing for us.  The children—we would ideally wish for two—will be raised by trusted cousins of ours, and you may, of course, dictate how much involvement you wish to have in their lives.”

 

Molly gaped.  Her cup clattered most unlady-like against its saucer.  But before she could settle her thoughts, she blurted, “Why me?”

 

“Your ability to come up with such a thorough plan to help Sherlock survive that fall and then escape attests to your ability to react to stressful situations, to problem-solve effectively, and your courage.  All of these traits are very valuable to pass onto your children with either Sherlock or Quesfort.”

 

Molly blinked.  “Why not you?”

 

It was finally Mycroft’s turn to be astonished.  But he recovered quickly, and giving a self-deprecating laugh, he replied, “I’m cut from an outdated cloth, I fear.  The future will need people with Sherlock’s and Quesfort’s abilities—coupled with yours—to prevent it from chaos and destruction.”

 

“But behaviour and especially skills development are not encoded in human genes as they are in animals.  We _learn_ most of these skills.  And children are very adaptable to acquiring all sorts of abilities so long as they are taught early in life.”

 

“While that is very true—and I bow to your superior medical knowledge in the matter—I do know that the brain is still, as they say, ‘hardwired’ a certain way, as determined by  genetic inheritance, during development in the womb, so that influences a person’s propensity toward a certain skills set.  I, therefore, still adhere to my original belief that a child who has the genetic predisposition will have a natural advantage and an easier time acquiring the desired capabilities.  Thus, the choice between Sherlock and Quesfort.”

  

“What—But—And they’re both _aware_ of this ‘duty’?”

 

“Certainly.  You will find that even Sherlock can see the appeal of not allowing his skills to die with him.  Although, I would have to put in safeguards to ensure that the children will be more… sociable than he is.”

 

Molly was forced to grin at this.  She then asked, hesitantly, “And if I wanted to carry the babies?  Not that I would want twins.  It is better to have them individually, so that they can be carried to term and not be held back by any physical disabilities like asthma.”

 

“Oh, well, that would be completely your choice.”

 

“And how soon do you need an answer?”

 

“A response within the next year would be preferable, so that arrangements can be made—procedures, doctors’ visits, the delivery, should you choose to carry, the nursery, trust funds… details, you know.  But you certainly can take as long as you require.”

 

“Well, I—I’ll think about it and get back to you?  I think a week should be enough time to decide something like this.”

 

“Molly, please know that even if you decline in the end, it does not diminish my regard for you in the least.  That you haven’t rejected this outright and laughed in my face… I’m very grateful.”

 

Molly smiled shyly and rose to shake Mycroft’s hand and thank him for a lovely tea.  She was quite flustered when he gallantly bowed over her hand and walked her to the door. 

 

***

 

When Molly gave her answer, exactly one week later, she told the bewildered Mycroft that she wished to be artificially inseminated with sperm from each brother and carry all three children to term over three separate pregnancies.  They would begin the process with Mycroft’s child and end with Sherlock’s—Molly reasoned that two older siblings would be able to keep a close eye on any signs of waywardness in the youngest.  Of course, they wouldn’t be revealing the order of birth to Sherlock.  And while she agreed that the nature of her own job would hardly be conducive to providing a stable home life for the children, Molly was adamant that she be a part of their lives and would spend as much time as possible with them.  She also insisted on being involved with any decisions being made regarding their education, academic or otherwise.

**Author's Note:**

> a little bunny whispered that when it came time for Q's offspring, molly might want to try getting pregnant the old-fashioned way. LOL!


End file.
